Day 17- Day trip to Marseille

Day trip to Marseille

France is a big country, by most standards (not Australia though) and as the games are randomly distributed across the nation it's quite a challenge for most fans to follow their team. My travel itinerary could only be finalised once I knew which matches I was going to and, for the bulk of the games, Lyon is the idea base. It's been great staying in the same room now for a few days and getting to know a city a little more than usual. However, there was one problem. I had a ticket for the Iceland v Hungary game in Marseille and I really didn't want to drive all the way down there again. Instead we caught the (very fast) train.

At the station, I topped up my pay-as-you-go Orange mobile data account as it had run out (needing local help as "elle dit trop vite!") and we bought water for the trip. After a bit of confusion from the electronic board of departures, we got on the train headed south down the spectacular Rhone valley.

Simon and Gerry can talk. The hind-legs of a donkey would stand no chance. From the moment the train started to glide out of the platform to the moment it stopped at the magnificent St Charles station in Marseille I don't think there was even half a second's pause in the conversation. Every now and then I managed to chip in too so the poor guy sat opposite me had to listen to about two hours of rapid, detailed English-language football chat. 

"Je suis desolee pour le conversation" I said to him at the end.

He smiled and shrugged as if to say 'too late now, mate!'

Don't get me wrong. I love talking about football and Gerry and Simon are great to bounce ideas off. Gerry agrees with me that football should, like basketball and AFL and most other sports, use this amazing new invention - called a stopwatch - and have the ref, or some other official, actually stop the clock when the ball goes dead. Why oh why does the clock keep ticking when players are rolling around on the floor like they've just had their lower limb bitten off buy a shark (of course, even if that were true, the human reaction would be very different and totally unlike a namby pamby spoiled three year old looking for attention) and then keeps ticking as the wall is lined up and the players decide who will take the free kick.

Simon and Gerry have the additional attraction that they actually play football too. Simon played to a pretty high level and at one time was on his way to becoming a pro. Gerry still plays today - unlike me. You can read an account of my "career" here if you want to compare it with that of Zinedine Zidane who retired more or less the same time I did.

Zidane - His career ended the same time mine did. That's where the comparison ends.

We had established that Gerry and Simon weren't going to try to go to the match but, instead enjoy some Mediterranean warmth and sunshine,. so we decided on a place to meet before hopefully catching the ludicrously early "last train"  of 8:14pm.

Then we set off to find the old port, site of much drinking, and violence, in the last week or so. The front of the station is palatial in its grandeur as it rises up what seemed like a hundred steps from one of Marseille's many straight and quite narrow streets. We descended down and then took a right towards the old port where, again, there was a happy party-like atmosphere. 

After a few selfies and other photos, we ended up in an Irish Pub (the next match was Ireland v Belgium after all) where we watched the second half of England v Australia in the rugby international.

It was good to be sat with fans who share a general dislike for rugby. 

One of my biggest problems has always been that rugby union is dominated by refereeing decisions. Every few minutes you have a pile of massive blokes writhing on top of each other with the ball somewhere underneath when the referee suddenly blows his whistle and points, seemingly randomly, to one of the goals having awarded a penalty to one of the teams for some infringement or other. Rugby fans always boast how nice and gentlemanly the players are. They never argue with the refs, because if they do they get penalised by conceding ten yards - fair enough but considering there are so many decisions in rugby, it's no wonder.

Rugby hardly ever flows. Stop Start. Stop Start. There are crazy things like line outs where the two teams line up next to each other and one side gets to throw the ball back in. There's this silly pretence that the guy is supoosed to throw it down the middle, but of course, miraculously it almost always ends up going to the right side.

Another key argument for me is that rugby is really a sport of the English empire, rather like cricket, whereas football is a truly international sport.

Gerry added that rugby fans are not as committed to following their sport, at a club level, as are football fans. Every time there's a six nations tens of thousands of fans pack Twickenham and fill the stadium with the lovely "Swing Low, sweet chariot..." but how many of these people support their local clubs every week? Club rugby has far lower support than club football. Not real fans, then.

Anyway, after having a MacDonald's (Time was a ticking) whilst chatting to some of the masses of Hungarian fans we got ready for the first game of the day.

The Original and Best Nice Guy - Gerry

Before the rain came

Bearded Hungarian - Impressive

Magyarország 

That has to be one of the hardest countries to say in the native language. I asked at least ten fans to help me and never really got it right. Thankfully, they also call themselves "Ongaria" which makes it easier.

Belgium 3 Ireland 0

As the game started, and images of Martin O'Neill came on screen, I couldn't help myself with a chant of my hero, as if I was 16 and stood in the Trent End. Within half a second, an Irish fan stood in front of me, as if locked into the same trigger, joined in. Sure enough - another Forest fan.

For most of the game, Ireland more than competed with Belgium but crucially in the second half, whilst attacking the Belgian goal an Irish striker (Shane Long, I think) appeared to be kicked in the face, resulting in a number of raised arms for a penalty claim. Instead, Belgium continued and quickly counter-attacked and Lukaku scored a great goal.

From that point on, there was only going to be one winner as Ireland chased the game more Belgium got them again, and then again, on the break.

I didn't stay to the end. Once the 3rd goal went in I decided to head off to my third game, back at the fantastic Marseille velodrome. It looks like it's pretty much over for Ireland. They really have to beat Italy to have a decent chance of making the next round now.

I caught the metro from the Old Port, changing at Castellane and onto the Stadium. It was far easier and quicker than I had anticipated. On the way, I chatted to a Hungarian father and son who told me a few insights into the way east European ultras behave. Apparently the Russian fans flew to Switzerland, to avoid EU surveillance, and then hired vans from there to come into France. Almost a military operation.

Friendly Hungarians

Hungary 1 Iceland 1

The stadium eventually almost filled to capacity (perhaps more than 65,000 were there by the start) and it was fantastic to see the emotion of these two sets of supporters who are both just happy to be here. 

The game itself was a little dull, to be honest. Both teams struggled to find their fluency and Hungary, in particular, frustrated me as they failed to reproduce the neat passing football that beat Austria. Iceland were awarded a penalty for a rather innocuous looking challenge which was converted. 1-0 to Iceland.

I felt very sorry for the passionate Hungarian couple and thousands of others who appeared to be having their dream taken away from them but felt happy for the Icelandic fans who seemed to be having their wildest dreams realised.

Passionate Hungarians

As time ticked by I became increasingly concerned about the 8:14 train deadline. The game kicked off at 6pm and the second half at around 7pm. I budgeted on half an hour to get back to the station with 15 minutes extra for safety, so at the clock ticked to 72 minutes gone, I decided to leg it, with the score still at 1-0.

In the end I was far too cautious. The metro journey back to the station was very smooth and I even got back there in time to watch the match finish on the tely and so saw the equaliser.

There was a bit of a fracas in the cafe I was watching the game and a suitcase that wasn't being claimed by anyone - so I decided to quickly move away and check the platform of the train.

When the platform came up I got on the train and enjoyed it as Gerry and Simon finally arrived, looking very worried I'd not made it. They had assured me that if I missed the train they wouldn't wait, so I wanted to give them a bit of a scare!

Gerry and Simon realise I'm on the train already 

Apparently they had to run uphill and up those steps to get to the train on time. It would have been funny if they'd have missed it, not me!

The conversation flowed even more from Gerry and Simon on the way back, lubricated by a bottle of wine or two, and we got back in time to see the second half of the last match.

Austria 0 Portugal 0

The big story here was that Cristiano Ronaldo missed a penalty. Portugal were the dominant team, although Austria did create a few chances themselves but in the end it was a frustrating draw for Portugal who will have to beat Hungary on Wednesday if they are going to top the group as they were supposed to do.

Ronaldo missed a penalty

Group F remains the hardest to call but one still has to fancy that Portugal will beat Hungary and top the group in the end.

And so ends round 2. Every team has now played twice so the "table" of the 24 ranked teams is starting to have some meaning.

24 teams ranked according to point after 2 games

The teams are colour coded according to their position. Note that currently, Northern Ireland, Wales, Portugal and Czech republic are the 4 best 3rd place teams and so would still qualify. This, of course, is likely to change over the next few days as the group matches are completed.

Aljice
Lyon